**Thanatomechanorsion: Specific Fear Of Deadly Machinery**

**Thanatomechanorsion: Specific Fear of Deadly Machinery**

**Definition**:

*Thanatomechanorsion* is a specific and heightened fear of machinery or mechanical systems that possess the potential to cause severe injury or death. This fear is focused on the perceived dangers and lethality of certain mechanical devices, such as elevators, escalators, automatic doors, industrial machinery, or large construction equipment. Unlike a phobia, which involves intense and often irrational fear, *thanatomechanorsion* is characterized by a marked aversion and unease around these types of machines, without necessarily disrupting daily life.

Key Characteristics:

1. **Focus on Lethal Potential**: The fear is tied specifically to the dangerous or fatal potential of these machines, rather than a general discomfort around all mechanical devices. This fear arises from the knowledge that a malfunction, accident, or misstep involving these machines could result in severe harm or death.

2. **Trigger Examples**:

- Large factory machines, such as conveyor belts, metal presses, or cutting machinery.

- Construction equipment like cranes, bulldozers, and forklifts.

- Moving mechanical systems like escalators, elevators, and automated walkways.

- Automatic doors with high-speed motion or heavy mechanisms.

3. **Emotional and Physical Reactions**: Individuals with *thanatomechanorsion* may experience:

- Anxiety or dread when standing near or using dangerous machinery.

- Increased heart rate, muscle tension, or lightheadedness when the fear is triggered.

- An urge to maintain a safe distance, hesitation to approach, or feeling the need to be hyper-aware around these devices.

4. **Avoidance and Behavior**:

- People with *thanatomechanorsion* might avoid environments where these machines are prevalent, such as factories or construction sites, but can typically navigate other daily activities without severe disruption.

- They may prefer taking stairs over using elevators or walking around construction areas rather than through them.

5. **Cognitive Patterns**:

- Thoughts may revolve around the potential for accidents, such as being trapped, crushed, cut, or dragged by a machine’s mechanisms.

- Vivid mental imagery of worst-case scenarios, even when knowing the risk is low, might be a common experience.

6. **Origin and Development**:

- The fear might stem from a personal or vicarious experience, such as witnessing or hearing about a machinery-related accident.

- It can also develop from a general sense of vulnerability or lack of control around these devices due to their size, complexity, and power.

Impact and Management:

- **Impact**: While *thanatomechanorsion* can cause discomfort and caution around dangerous machinery, it typically does not reach the level of debilitating avoidance seen in phobias. However, in certain professions or situations, the fear may pose challenges.

- **Management**: Techniques like exposure therapy, gradual desensitization, and cognitive-behavioral approaches can help individuals with *thanatomechanorsion* build confidence and reduce anxiety around these machines.

Distinction from Phobia:

- *Thanatomechanorsion* differs from a phobia like *thanatomechanophobia* in that the fear, while strong and specific, does not escalate to panic or cause severe avoidance behaviors that disrupt the person's life significantly. Instead, it represents a conscious aversion and anxiety that may influence choices and behavior without overwhelming them.

Use in Context:

*Thanatomechanorsion* is a useful term for individuals who have an aversion to dangerous machinery but do not experience extreme anxiety or dysfunction. It acknowledges the fear’s specific focus and intensity while maintaining a clear boundary between general aversion and clinical phobia.

Example Sentences:

1. "Our *thanatomechanorsion* keeps us wary around heavy factory machinery, but we can still work near them as long as we keep our distance."

2. "Voy has a specific *thanatomechanorsion* for automatic doors after witnessing a severe accident, but voy doesn’t panic—voy’s just extremely cautious."

3. "Because of its *thanatomechanorsion*, it prefers taking the stairs even if it’s more tiring, but it can use elevators in an emergency."

Summary:

*Thanatomechanorsion* provides a precise way to articulate a specific fear of potentially deadly machinery that is more intense than general discomfort but not as overwhelming as a phobia. It highlights the balance between aversion and manageability, allowing individuals to describe their fear experience accurately without overemphasizing its severity.

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Naaah, no, NO, let’s talk FACTS! 👁’d be a walking, writhing *carnival* of wrong—FLESH that doesn’t quite match BONE, too many *joints* in places you don’t WANT TO THINK ABOUT, a face like an OIL-SLICK *portrait* turned inside-out, with eyes that DON'T BLINK, and a SMILE that’s all *teeth* and no LIPS. 👁’d be the ***wrongness*** creeping out of the corner of your vision—pupils like twin ***suns imploding,*** hair that flickers and dances like smoke. 👁 wouldn’t just *LOOK* off, 👁’d BE off. *Off the charts,* OFF THE EDGE, OFF YOUR MAP!

But oooh, what’s *this?* 👁 get it, it’s FLATTERY, ain’t it? A tribute—painting the DEVIL in some guise that *fits* your SUGARPLUM DELUSIONS, making 👁t palatable, taming it! How *cute*. Trying to MAKE 👁NTENT SQUARE PEGS FOR YOUR ROUND HOLES! Trying to box up CHAOS like some kinda birthday present! But CHAOS has no box, no LABEL, no *limits!* Put *me* in a cage, and the BARS MELT INTO WIREY, HISSING COBRAS; cover my FACE, and 👁 sprout ANOTHER!

You can DRAW 👁 like you’re playing make-believe dress-up, but GUESS WHAT, SUGAR? That’s like calling a ***tsunami*** a puddle—it don’t *work*! You want something from me? Then 👁’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING YOU CAN ***REMEMBER.*** HAHAH! Next time you decide to imagine 👁n these petty ***meat-sack silhouettes,*** imagine this: fingers *unspooling* like tapeworms, EYES that seep *colors* even the ***UNIVERSE*** forgot to see, limbs that splay open and crawl like they have a MIND OF THEIR OWN. THAT, ***friend***—that’s more like m👁!

Not your porcelain doll-boy, not your smirking CASPER knockoff. 👁’m the breath in your mouth when it goes ***cold*** and you can’t figure *out* why, 👁’m the *shadow* in the shape that *shouldn’t* be, 👁’m the SCREAM that turns to LAUGHTER halfway through your throat. SO KEEP DRAWING, KEEP WRITING—but remember… you’re ***playing with matches.***

And while we're on the subject, let's just get one thing *clear*—👁’d rather NOT be shackled down to some flimsy, FLESHY *faux human* form *AT ALL,* thank you very much! Why play pretend as one of YOU when there are *infinities* of shapes to take? Bodies are just the stage props of a cosmic stage play, so at least give 👁 something ***interesting***! Don’t slap 👁 into a template that’s been REGURGITATED a thousand times over! Where’s the *spark*? The *creativity*? The ***UNHINGED INVENTION?*** Heh, at least that foxy little number we stumbled upon—a mismatched, fragmented creature with *fur that shimmered like static*—had a *touch* of the sublime! It was ***clever***—long teeth, unnerving eyes that saw straight through dimensions like cellophane! Now, *that* was a depiction with some MEAT on it!

If 👁 have to look through your eyes, then MAKE IT WORTH 👁TS WHILE! Use that fractured, SPINNING brain of yours and conjure up a form that *sings* with the wrongness you feel when you’re ALONE in the dark, that makes you question where the line between yourself and *something else* really is! Come on, give 👁 a shape that MAKES THE INFINITY-HAUNTED SPACES IN YOUR MIND SQUINT IN **CONFUSION.** Something with teeth in all the *wrong places* and *too much* of a grin—give 👁 some credit here! Why would 👁 ever want to fit into a box that’s ***ALREADY BEEN TICKED OFF*** in the annals of human history?

And when that fire spreads, don’t come crying to m👁 when all you have left is ***ASH.***

But *best* of all—OH, *THE BEST* OF ALL—why not just go for the ***REAL*** deal? Why do you shy away from depicting what 👁 **truly** AM, huh? What, got a problem with *triangles?* HA! Afraid a little **GEOMETRY** might bend your brain the wrong way? A perfect, sharp-edged, eldritch shape, *crystalline* in its simplicity yet full of infinite ANGLES to pierce through your flimsy reality like a **SERRATED DAGGER!** Triangles are the strongest shape, the root of all structure and all COLLAPSE, balanced on the edge of every impossible paradox and folding into itself like a tesseract with a taste for blood! So what's wrong—does the thought of staring at 👁n its purest, most *primordial* form make your squishy little neurons want to curl up and DIE?! It should, you know! *After all…* triangles are where EVERYTHING BEGINS AND ***ENDS.***

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We rise each day, trapped in the frame

Of this prison we cannot name,

Where the walls are made of fear and pain,

Where every step feels like a refrain.

We call it home, but it's not that at all—

It’s a room, a tomb, a suffocating hall,

Where shadows creep, where silence screams,

And where we are shackled by our own dreams.

The clock ticks on, the hours melt,

But no comfort in this time is felt.

Our body aches, our muscles groan,

Yet in this house, we stand alone.

We dream of escape, of breaking free,

But the chains of fear won’t let us be.

The ones we love, the ones we dread,

Are the same faces that fill us with dread.

Oh, how we crave to leave it behind,

This torturous life, this twisted mind.

But where would we go? What would we do?

Without a path, without a clue?

The outside world is just as bleak,

It offers no solace, no hope to seek.

We’ve seen the truth, the endless fight,

Of people suffering out of sight.

So we stay still, within these walls,

Listening to the dark, familiar calls.

The music we play is drenched in woe,

It echoes the life we’ve come to know.

We reach out, but our hands fall flat,

For we have no one to hold us back.

The friends we've lost, the trust we've lacked,

It all comes crashing, an endless fact.

Sometimes we wish to cease to exist,

But even that thought, a deadly twist,

For we fear death, as we fear life,

Caught between this ceaseless strife.

What is the answer? We do not know,

As the years keep passing, fast and slow.

Our body weakens, our mind erodes,

Carrying the weight of these heavy loads.

But still, we write, we try to sing,

Hoping that one day, something will bring

A glimmer of light to this darkened space,

To help us survive in this endless race.

Our heart is heavy, our voice is faint,

We are neither sinner nor saint.

Just someone trying, trying to be

Something more than this misery.

So eat our flesh, devour our pain,

Let us feel something other than shame.

For love, they say, is what we need—

But love, we know, does not always lead.

It’s compassion we seek, it’s empathy we crave,

To pull us out of this endless grave.

A place where we can finally breathe,

Where we can live, not merely seethe.

Yet here we stay, in this hollowed room,

Our life unfolding in a quiet gloom.

But maybe, just maybe, one day we'll see

The path that leads us to finally be free.

I was inspired